


when the lights come up, let me fall into your arms

by gohoubi



Series: soft melaudrey fics [1]
Category: Snowpiercer (TV 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Angst, Crying, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Pillow Talk, Reminiscing, Sharing a Bed, Spoilers, about as self-indulgent as you can get
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25356637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gohoubi/pseuds/gohoubi
Summary: A different take on Melanie's first foray into the Nightcar.
Relationships: Miss Audrey/Melanie Cavill
Series: soft melaudrey fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128500
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	when the lights come up, let me fall into your arms

**Author's Note:**

> Remember in that one episode of the show where Layton asks Audrey if Melanie has ever used the Nightcar, and she's like 'Melanie's never required that kind of service'? Yeah we'll just pretend that never happened ever. Also, I know the last episode happened but I want to do this my way. Also I go feral for Melanie/Audrey so just roll with it :D
> 
> As usual: pre-canon, canon divergence.

“Audrey?” Melanie asked, as the other woman strode out of the shadows.

“Yes. I’m overseeing your experience today.”

“But I thought - ” Melanie didn’t finish her sentence.

”You thought that this isn’t my style? That this isn’t a thing I do?” Audrey stopped in front of her, holding her gaze. “You’re right. I mostly have the others conduct these…experiences. But when I heard that the head of hospitality herself required our services, I stepped in. There’s nobody else I trust to run this for you.”

”I don’t need anything special.”

”I know. But for someone this important, and for whom this is their first experience, I want to make sure this goes well.” Melanie looked so anxious, Audrey found herself feeling bad for her. She tried to make her voice sound more reassuring. “Don’t look so worried. There’s really nothing to it. I don’t have an ulterior motive. I’m just here to ensure you get something out of this.”

Melanie swallowed, looked around at the room nervously. “What’s going to happen?”

“Well, I would be ruining the experience if I told you.” Audrey stepped back, to where she knew there was a small control panel on the wall. Melanie remained standing stock-still in the centre of the room, biting her lip. “I promise. It’s not going to hurt you or anything. Just let yourself…feel.”

“What if I don’t know how to do that?” Melanie asked, a tiny tremor in her voice betraying her fear.

“Trust me,” Audrey said, pressing a button labeled **waves**. “You will.” The lights in the room dimmed, and soon it was pitch black. Audrey knew, from years of running the Nightcar, that they had ten seconds before it started. “It’s not failed for anyone yet.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Melanie stood in the centre of the padded room, face slowly tilted up to the ceiling. The light from the waves onscreen slowly played across her face. _Quite a novel invention, this room,_ thought Audrey disconnectedly. If she didn’t know the inner workings of this car by heart, she might actually think it was real. A few seconds later, the screens went dark: the ‘experience’ was over. To Audrey, this was the most decisive moment of these events - when the screens went black and the room was plunged abruptly into darkness, the client’s reaction could be anything from silence to a full-on mental breakdown. Such as it was. Audrey had overseen enough of these sessions that all of it had become perfectly banal, but she couldn’t suppress the curiosity this time. The first time in the Nightcar’s history that Melanie Cavill had visited. How would the stoic, composed head of hospitality react? Would she react at all?

In the pitch darkness, Audrey heard a sharp intake of breath, then a sob. “Allie…” came Melanie’s voice out of the darkness, the words hanging unformed between them. The lights came back on, like cinemas of old. “Allie, I’m so sorry…” Mel’s face was contorted in abject despair, tears rolling down her face.

“Melanie,” Audrey began, stepping forward. She supposed it was better than the screams. But when you have unseated a boulder, who knows which way it will roll? “Melanie,” she said again, hoping to rouse the other woman from her stupor.

“No, no, no,” Melanie brought her hands up to her face, dragged her nails down her cheeks. Squeezed her eyes shut against whatever memory the room had brought forth. “I couldn’t save you, I couldn’t, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Melanie,” Audrey said for the third time. “It’s okay, it’s over. Open your eyes. You’re in the Nightcar.” Melanie let out a harsh sob, practically fell into Audrey’s awkward embrace. _So much for stoic and composed._

“Clients sometimes have an extreme reaction to their experience. Just let it all out.”

“I don’t…I can’t…” Melanie choked out, sobs still shaking her entire body in Audrey’s arms. “I don’t…want…to be seen…like this,” she whined. “Please…can I stay here?”

Audrey felt a slight tug of misgiving; she had never seen the head of Hospitality like this. Most of the clients hauled ass out of the Nightcar as soon as their experience was over. Not Melanie, I guess. “I…yes, if that’s something you want. We can go back to my - ”

Melanie jumped on that, green eyes wide and beseeching. “Please. Just for tonight.”

* * *

“Ladder. Climb. Take it slow.” Audrey stayed below, making sure nobody passed by. There were no other experiences booked for that day - an unusually quiet day in the Nightcar - so the two women saw nobody. A good thing that was, because even with the pretext of the experience, a shaking, crying Melanie would be impossible to explain. Once she knew the coast was clear, Audrey climbed the ladder, joining Melanie at the top.

“You alright?” Audrey asked, while trying to open the door to her quarters. _Does she even know where she is?_ She took Melanie gently by the hand, led her into the space beyond. Closed the door behind them both. She checked the sliding viewport in the door, then slammed it shut. “I don’t think we’ll be disturbed. Nobody knows you’re here. Everyone thinks I’m taking a day off.” Strains of music wafted from downstairs even with the door shut. Melanie took a none-too-gentle seat on the sofa. She was still crying, a whimper forcing itself out every minute or so. Audrey cracked open a bottle of whiskey, not one from the Nightcar distillery but an old-world one, from before the Freeze. Passing a glass of it to Melanie, she downed some of it herself. Melanie’s hand shook as she tried to drink it, spilling some of the alcohol on her grey hoodie. _I’m never getting that back,_ Audrey thought.

“You’re under no obligation to talk about what happened in there, but - ”

“I saw her,” Melanie said, not looking at Audrey. What did they call it? _The thousand-yard stare._ Audrey imagined she could see all the way to the engine. “Before…before departure.”

Audrey sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Melanie, looking up at her. “Alright. What did she look like?” _Tread carefully._

“I…just like…” Melanie shuddered, gripping the glass so tight her knuckles went white. She closed her eyes again.

“Breathe, Melanie. Until you’re ready.”

“She was…just before we left. She was so _real_ , Audrey, like she was just there.”

The music increased in volume: a performance was going on below. If Audrey listened hard, she could hear the words. Drifting up from the main floor like smoke, curling their way through the door. Audrey should have been singing the song, she realised, but this time she’d allowed the apprentice singer to do it, choosing to run Melanie’s experience instead. From her expression, Melanie was listening to it too. “It’s a nice song,” she said, her voice a little steadier. “From before?” _She’s not focusing on what just happened. She’s calming down._

“Yeah. It’s called ‘Strangers’. It is a good song,” Audrey said, for lack of anything else to say. “There’s few enough songs that we know the words to.” 

Melanie leaned back on the couch. “How do you decide the songs?”

“Whatever the others brought on the train with them. It’s a healthy mix. We have records, CDs. One of us has an online playlist they downloaded. It’s a mix, as I said. But the clients aren’t very discerning.” Audrey let herself smirk a little bit at that.

Melanie seemed to have calmed down enough that she could take in her surroundings. “So this is where you live? Isn’t it kind of…cramped?”

“It’s a private space. It’s enough for me.” It wasn’t even really a room, but an attic probably created for storage. The mattress took up half the floor space, directly underneath the one window. The couch was squished into the other corner to the left of the door. The only space left was taken up by a crate, where Audrey had gotten the alcohol. “But maybe every space that’s not First Class is small for you.”

Melanie tensed, bristling slightly. “That’s not me,” she said, just a little too forcefully. _Is that a sore spot?_ “That’s not me,” she repeated again.

“Alright, sorry.” Audrey rubbed the back of her neck, not meeting Melanie’s deep green eyes. “We’re all cramped here anyway.”

Melanie took a long chug of her drink. “Thanks anyway,” she said after a while. “For earlier.” 

“It’s a service. I’m glad you got something out of it.”

The chorus of the song recurred again. Melanie, in her roving gaze of the room, alighted on a piece of paper in a frame. “Is that your degree?” she asked, running her fingers over the college seal on the paper. “Audrey Smith, bachelor of arts majoring in psychology? Harvard?”

“Yeah. Was a therapist for ten years, remember?”

“Sure. But seeing the degree is different.”

Audrey looked at it properly, the signature of the college dean and the red college logo, her name in large letters with the degree name underneath it. A relic, a fossil from an ancient time. In this tiny room, stamped with the trappings of Snowpiercer, the degree in its gilded frame felt out of place. One of the very few vestiges of Audrey’s old life. Audrey felt herself gripped by a great sadness. She supposed she should feel privileged - her role in the Nightcar allowed her to retain one aspect of her former life - but even so, she found herself longing for the time before. When her clients’ problems were mostly solvable. When she always had a solution for everything. Now, on a train barrelling through a frozen earth, Audrey couldn’t always give the clients the answer they sought.

“It doesn’t matter,” Audrey said, turning away from it. “It’s from before. Nobody sees it. I should put it away.”

“No, don’t. Just because it’s from before doesn’t change what it is.”

Audrey decided to change the subject. “If you want, I can make up the bed for you. If you’re staying.”

“Where would you sleep? The couch?”

“Yeah. I can do that for one night.”

“No offence, Audrey, but this couch is rock solid. It’s worse than the bunks in the hospitality dorm, and believe me when I say those are already terrible. Like business class plane beds.” Melanie’s fingers traced the spiral leaf design on her glass. “Don’t burden yourself on my account. I’ll take the couch.”

Audrey tried to dredge her memory of what planes were like. When you could travel the world in a few hours instead of several weeks. Had she ever been in business class? Did she know what that was like? As if bobbing up from the bottom of a dirty pond, she vaguely recalled a plane cabin suffused with purple light, and tiny lightbulbs in the ceiling that looked like stars. As quickly as it came, the memory disappeared.

“You’re not taking the couch. I have pride, you know. We can share the bed. It’s large enough for the both of us.”

“Us? In the same bed together? We’ll be found, Audrey.” Melanie’s finger-tracing increased in speed as she bit her lip. “It would be too dangerous. For you, I mean,” she said quickly at Audrey’s expression.

“It’s fine. Is anyone expecting you back uptrain? The only danger is someone from uptrain looking for you. The others don’t care. I’m their leader, remember?”

“Okay. I’ll share the bed.” Melanie dug her teeth into her lip, leaching it of blood for a second, before letting it go. “But we stay apart.”

* * *

Audrey awoke with a start, unsure as to what had broken her out of a dead sleep. The Nightcar was quiet, everyone having retreated to their respective classes. All that could be heard now was the train. Being close to the edge of the train made it louder, but Audrey didn’t notice it anymore. If she wasn’t paying attention, it would fade to background noise.

It was a clear, cloudless night. The moon hung directly in the middle of the window, and a shaft of white light fell across the bed. Across the head of hospitality now sleeping there. Her hair fanned out in a dark wave across the pillows. _So beautiful. Did I not notice that before?_

Audrey took advantage of the other woman’s slumber to take a closer look. Now that Melanie was outside First Class, away from the stresses of the train, she looked…relaxed. Younger. Free of her burdens, even if just for the night. Audrey gently brushed a strand of hair away from Melanie’s face, who stirred but did not wake.

 _Why did I do that? Don’t go caring for the head of hospitality. Impartiality, Audrey! Or are you forgetting the most basic tenet of therapy?_

Audrey decided to take herself away from the situation before she lost any more sense. There was just enough space between the window and the mattress to sit. Outside the window, a city passed by. Audrey once knew what it was called, but she didn’t remember anymore. The skyscrapers jutted into the sky, covered in white. Nothing but grey and white blocks, for miles and miles. A memory of the train’s departure from Chicago sneaked into her mind, Audrey watching out the window at the receding skyline which still had lights on it. One revolution later, all the lights were gone.

“Audrey?” A shuffling noise, a voice rising in pitch. Melanie rose from the mattress, facing away from the window. “Audrey, where are you?”

Audrey climbed back over the mattress to get to her. “Melanie? What’s going on?”

“I…” Melanie cut herself off, as if afraid to say more. Her eyes were wide in fear, mouth slightly open. Audrey felt as if she was seeing down to the bottom of a pool that was previously too murky to see through. Abruptly, like a portcullis slamming down, Melanie’s green eyes darkened and closed off. “Nothing. It’s nothing. It’s fine.” She flopped back down, rolled away from Audrey.

“You can talk to me. What’s up?” Audrey reached out to touch her, but thought better of it. _Don’t touch someone in distress unless they want it._

“It’s nothing, I said. Go back to sleep. I’m fine,” Melanie said, her voice cracking audibly on the last word.

Audrey decided not to press the point. “Alright.”

Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long for the ‘confession’ to come. Melanie started to speak, in a low, fast voice, as if she wanted to get it all out as quickly as possible. “I saw her again. Like before. Before we left. Just before we left. Maybe. I think. But then when I tried to get close, she disappeared.”

“Did anything happen next?”

“No, just. Just her, disappearing.” 

Audrey took a breath. “Maybe you saw that because - “

“Stop. Stop. Don’t - ” Melanie tensed, took a sharp inhale. “ - don’t do that thing. The- the psychoanalysing.”

“Okay. Alright. I won’t.” Audrey released a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. “I won’t. I’m sorry.”

“Just…can you hold me?”

How long had it been since Audrey did that? Let someone into her home, her arms? Why did it have to be the head of hospitality? Audrey shifted closer, laid one hand on Melanie’s shoulder. The lack of reprisal made her bold, and she crossed the last twenty centimetres to gather Melanie in her arms properly. In the silence, Audrey categorised everything: _the curve of her back fits perfectly into my body, her hands are soft in mine…she is warm…and alive…and real._

How could Audrey have thought that everything before now was enough? That singing every night and all the experiences could have made up for the huge chasm in her soul - that only the presence of another person could fix?

Melanie started to cry, curling into herself. Audrey drew the other woman even closer into her embrace. “It’s alright, I’m here,” she said, for lack of anything else to say. “Just let it out. I’m not going anywhere.” _Is this the first time she’s been able to let go like this? Is this the first time she’s felt safe enough to cry?_ At least in the experiences Audrey could maintain some level of professional detachment. But here? How could she stay seperate from this? With Melanie’s body shaking against hers, every noise and every movement being felt as if Audrey was doing it herself?

“I feel…” Melanie took a shaky breath. “Audrey, I feel…so alone.”

 _So do I!_ Audrey wanted to say this, wanted to admit it so badly. _Do not add to her distress. Stay calm for her. Melanie needs you to be strong._ “I know. I know.” She felt a burning sensation behind her eyes, thousands of tiny pinpricks warning of tears to come. _Do not let them fall!_

“I…haven’t been held like this…in so long,” Melanie went on, her breaths coming hot and erratic. “I’m so tired and…so…so scared. I just want someone to hold me and…tell me everything’s going to be okay.”

Audrey ran her mind through all the therapist responses she knew, but all of them sounded horrifically trite. That was the problem - none of her pre-train experience worked here. How could you say that ‘things will improve’ when the train got closer to certain death with every passing revolution?

Audrey heard - and felt - Melanie choke on a particularly pitiful noise. “Breathe,” she told her.

“I’m trying,” Melanie sobbed, her hand spasming weakly in Audrey’s. “I’m trying.”

“Time it by me,” Audrey said. ”Five seconds inhale, five seconds exhale.”

Audrey heard Melanie’s breathing hitch a little, holding it for three seconds, before she slipped back into her gasping.

“That was a good start. Do it again. Time it by me,” she repeated. Audrey inhaled deeply, holding Melanie tight against her chest. Counted to five silently, exhaled. Slowly, Melanie’s breathing evened out, shaky but no longer crying. Audrey brought one of her hands up to stroke her hair.

“There you go. That’s good. Keep breathing.” Audrey rubbed Melanie’s chest, felt the other woman’s heart pulsating underneath. “You’re okay. You’re safe here.”

“Can you promise that?”

“I promise. While you’re in the Nightcar, nobody will hurt you.” Audrey regretted saying that, already cursing how… _fervent_ it sounded, but Melanie seemed to relax a little upon hearing it. A smell of burnished metal and lemongrass wafted up, poking at memories long forgotten.

“Let me guess,” Melanie said weakly, “most of your experiences don’t end this way.”

Audrey found herself smiling at that even so. “No, they don’t. But I knew this one would probably be unique. As soon as I saw your name on the list.”

“I just wanted…” Melanie stopped, swallowed, took a breath. “I don’t know what I wanted.”

“I’ve seen nearly every living soul on this train pass through the Nightcar. You name a person, they’ve been here. And I’ve overseen a good portion of them. All wanting absolution or peace. Or human connection. But the head of hospitality’s been a conspicuous absence.”

Melanie stiffened. “Was it really that obvious?”

“Only to me. The full list of people is unaccessible to everyone else. But when I saw ‘Melanie Cavill’ come up on the experience list, I knew it had to be me. I wouldn’t trust anyone else with you.” Audrey closed her eyes, breathed in the characteristic fragrance of the train shampoo still lingering in Melanie’s hair. “Everyone has demons, Melanie. You are not different from anyone else. But you must work through them. You must confront them. In a safe place, of course, with people who are trained. But still. That work can only be done by you alone.”

“I’m sure most of your clients don’t end up in your bed.”

“I have to say that was an unexpected departure from the norm. But I don’t mind.”

“I wish I could stay here forever. Never go back uptrain. Live down here with you.” Melanie rolled over in Audrey’s arms, buried her face in her chest. “I know, I know. Not realistic. Just let me pretend for one night. Just. Let me pretend.”

Pretend, indeed. Audrey thought about her room: sacred, and inviolate. A seperate dimension where she could just be. Where they could both just be.

“You can always come back. Anyone is welcome in the Nightcar.” _Especially you,_ Audrey thought, but she didn’t voice it.

“Maybe I will. If you’re here.” Melanie snuggled in closer, her face pressed up against Audrey’s shoulder. “Stay with me.”

“Always. Don’t have to ask.”

“Audrey. Can you sing?”

 _Sing?_ Audrey’s mind bumped up against that word, short-circuiting. _Melanie wants me to sing?_

“You…want me to sing you something?”

“Yeah. Anything. Anything that you know. Just. It would be nice to fall asleep to.”

Audrey supposed she should feel lucky that she hadn’t done any performances today. Her voice would be husky from disuse, but it would do. Her mind spun through an inventory of songs, of sound bites and riffs and pre-choruses. What could she sing?

Until she knew. A memory rose unbidden, of a concert on a grassy beach. A motley band on a stage, sun-baked and carefree. A song named after the music festival they all hoped to attend. A song of hope. A song of connection.

Audrey began to sing, not bothering to warm up beforehand. Her voice filled the tiny space, singing of neon nights and fires, a desert sun sinking low and rivers carving valleys. Within ten minutes, Melanie was asleep again, snoring softly. Audrey held her closer, revelling in the warmth and security she felt…just from holding another living person.

Perhaps this was what seven years of living on an ark train led to. Because Audrey wouldn’t trade that night for the world, or all the days that came after it.

**Author's Note:**

> I had this whole thing going where there was going to be a significant portion of this fic getting inside Mel's head and depicting what this experience was like for her and her general mental state during it (which would have been fun), but I realised it would be way too close to what the show gave us, and that's not really my style. I wanted to show someone else's (specifically: Audrey’s) reaction to this event. I had fun with it. So there's that.
> 
> Despite what I just said, this fic is completely pre-canon and canon divergence. Just my thoughts on the show and how it influenced this fic :)
> 
> There's an unofficial sequel/other-half of this fic: [when you put me back together, mind the broken glass](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26536006)


End file.
